Page 14 of Razors & Ruin

I stand at the counter, rolling pastry. I must keep my hands busy, as my twitching tendons have ideas of their own.

“Will he be here soon?” Marianne drains her glass. “I thought about him a lot while he was away. He really did love Veronica, you know. He told me they were going to run away with baby Johanna and take me with them.”

I narrow my eyes at her, but she doesn’t notice. “And you would have gone along?”

She nods. “Of course. They needed me. And she adored him. Anyone could see it; she had that honey glow in her face whenever he was near. And who could blame her? He was always so…intense.”

I grip the rolling pin and close my eyes, only to be jolted back by the door opening. It’s Paulie and his young assistant, wrangling the chair.

“Where do you want this, pet?” he asks.

I point up. “The stairwell is outside. The door’s open. Everything up there.”

Marianne helps herself to more gin as the two men traipse up and down, thumping and thudding over the bare floorboards below. The cold, bare room where Sweeney deflowered me, rough and hard. Did Marianne ever know his touch?

I doubt it, but that’s not to say she wasn’t open to the idea. She still is. I saw how her head whipped to look as the door opened.

She’s in Sweeney’s thrall as much as I am, which will simply not do, but if she can keep her mouth shut, I can makehimhappy. He will return, find the girl here, and be pleased with me. Pleased that I can solve his problems.

But she really doesn’t know when to button her fucking lip.

“So, how did you meet him?” Marianne says, her words beginning to slur. “This shop is yours, and you’re married. Does he only go for women in wedlock, or do I have a chance?”

I grind some spices in the pestle. “I am a widow. And I knew him many years ago, too.”

She rolls her eyes. “Is that so? You don’t seem his type. Ms. Veronica was a respectable gentlewoman, not some harridan.” She drifts over to the counter and perches unsteadily on the stool, her elbow in a pat of lard. “You’re not a lady. You won’t hold his attention for long.”

Damn this cunt.

“Say, Marianne. What makes you such a wonderful judge of character? He’s a murderer, and, believe it or not, so am I. What doyoubring to the table?”

“Alright, I won’t be rude.” Her smile is saccharine, and I recoil. “Let’s see what Sweeney says when he gets here, shall we? Because I don’t thinkyouever killed anyone or anything, but I can see all too well that you buried your self-respect in a shallow grave.”

“You’d do anything for his attention, and it’s pathetic.” She waves her hand dismissively. “You’d give him the skin off your back!”

That does it.

I raise the rolling pin and smash Marianne smartly over her head, and she sways, the pupil of her left eye dilating as blood streams from her ear.

Another crack, and she slumps, coloring the flour with crimson. A strangled moan escapes her, and I drop the pin.

Fuckme, did that feel good.

I grab a handful of her yellow hair and lift her head, holding her face to mine. “The skin offmyback, is it, you little bitch? I’ll fix you.”

I wipe my hands on my apron and leave her gurgling on the worktop as I head out. Upstairs, I cast an eye over the bedraggled barber’s chair.

Sorely in need of love, just like me, but luckily, my late husband taught me a few tricks.

Sweeney was right. It needs new leather, for sure.

7

Sweeney

Nellie never reappeared with the food. Petulant little cow.

I meander around the market, looking for shadows. Faces I may have known, or indeed, shaved. Back when I was a lad with nothing but a lovelorn heart and fanciful notions of a future worth fighting for.

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